Ready to Make Friends with Poetry? ⟶
There is no statute of limitations on vision. My old eyes register a darting messenger ofGod’s blatant, creative joy. Watch the wingedcreation hover in a web of air.Spy a sleuthing intrudersnap-tapping its wayacross the wood, tunnelingaway and down the outside stairs. No expiration (yet) for hearing,cataloguing birdvoice and thechipclacking of breakfastat the feeder, the squeakinginsistence…
No matter where I live, I recognize the song of a red-winged blackbird. In rushes near the shore’s edge of a California beach, along the canals and waterways in the San Joaquin Valley, the tall grasses along a Louisiana bayou or deep in marshes along Washington’s coast, the voice of the songbird is the same….
Some of the most delicious morsels we consume are not the meals we partake of but rather the nourishment of words which speak to our souls. When you are the oldest of five children with alcoholic parents, life is tenuous and uncertain, to say the least. Rocky around the edges and loosely glued together by…
“Petit a petit, l’oiseau fait son nid.” Little by little, the bird builds its nest. (from the French) Why does it always seem like the final hours of a long trip last forever when all you can think about is your comfortable bed? My husband and I had just spent a recent weekend with our…
Some friends and I were having lunch the other day, discussing various challenges to find the time to write—caring for children, caring for our homes, talking with spouses, all manner of delights and duties. Then there was the other ‘D’—distractions. In between bites of fish and chips I lamented the ease with which I am…
Lavender linaria spikes upward, miniature clouds stalk-perched as they reach for the sky. Hummingbirds crowd-feed in the waning afternoon sun. Carnations, red as a fresh-cut thumb, wave divine perfume from ruffled taffeta on gray-green stems. Sweet peas’ pungent surprise, a salmon/marshmallow palette, celestial …